She's a Lady
by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: There were worse fates than being reincarnated as a Chevrolet Impala owned by two men who hunted the forces of darkness... then again, maybe not. She was picking zombie guts out of her hair after all... (An AU story in which the Impala has a soul and turns into a woman while Sam and Dean aren't around)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is an idea that I have wanted to write for a while, but had a really hard time with. After a bunch of re-writes and a lot of writer's block, here it is. The basic idea is that the Impala was a soul that got reincarnated as the car the Winchesters know and love. She turns into semi-human form when they're asleep (outside of the Impala). Because Dean only ever calls her 'baby' she's under the impression that it's her name. This was not intended to fit into any particular Supernatural timeline or plot. It's just a thing… I plan on this being a sort-of-multi chapter fic made up of three one-shots that can either stand alone or be considered 'chapters'. **

**Part One: She's a Backseat Driver, A Drama Provider**

Baby woke up curled in a ball in the parking lot of a cheap motel with 'Carry on My Wayward Son' stuck in her head. Cursing, the young woman sat up and stretched. Checking her watch she noted that it was well after midnight and that her jacket was splattered with… was that blood? And internal organs…? Goddammit, Dean, did you have to _run over _the zombie? Really?

Grumbling about irresponsible car owners and their stupid-ass decisions, Baby climbed to her feet, checking herself over for injuries as she did so. Most of it seemed pretty superficial, bruises and a scrape or two. Her hair was a snarled mass of silver and black, but that was fixable. It wouldn't be the first time she had stolen Sam's conditioner. Honestly, that boy was like a walking salon, if Dean knew what Sam had hidden with her over the years, the littlest Winchester would never live it down.

A quick glance at her clothes reassured her that no lasting damage had been done. Her black jeans still hugged her legs comfortably, with nary a rip in sight, her black lace-trimmed sleeveless shirt was all in one piece, and her silver-studded black leather jacket still hung from her shoulders comfortably. Every stitch of the embroidery spelling out her license plate number on her shirt was still in place. If she had lifted the fabric up to expose her stomach she would have seen an identical pristine tattoo sprawling once across her abs and a second one on her back.

Good. The boys hadn't screwed anything up too terribly. Despite Dean using her as a battering ram and zombie-mulcher. That was just degrading. Baby sighed. There were worse ways to be reincarnated than as the Chevrolet Impala owned by a pair of young male hunters, one of whom insisted on referring to her exclusively as 'Baby'. Then again, maybe not, she was picking zombie guts from her hair after all.

Sighing and shaking her head at the boys and their antics, Baby crept toward their motel room, digging the key Dean had carelessly left on her dashboard out of a jacket pocket. Quiet as a cat and reveling at the rare chance to actually possess stealth now that she was in human form (it was hard to be sneaky when you had an engine as loud as hers), Baby slipped the key into the lock and carefully eased the door open with only a quiet squeak. Peering around the room, Baby scanned the two sleeping figures within. Dean was crashed out on one of the beds, a half-eaten big mac slowly congealing on the wrapper beside him, the TV still playing the tail end of a _Dr. Sexy M.D _marathon. Sam looked like he had been a bit more industrious before the lure of sleep claimed him. He was lightly dozing, head resting square on his laptop's keyboard, notes spread all around him in an untidy mess.

Apparently Baby's entrance was not quite silent enough. With a jerk Dean sat bolt upright in bed, sending his half-finished dinner falling to the floor along with the remote and several clips of ammunition. Still groggy, he pointed a handgun vaguely in her direction. "What the hell you evil son of a bitch!" he slurred.

"Sher-ermf, Derm." Sam grumbled, still mostly asleep, waving a hand in Dean's direction before rolling his head off the keyboard and into the pages of an open textbook.

Apparently placated by his brother's string of gibberish (Baby guessed that a rough translation would be 'Shut up, Dean'), Dean returned the gun to its place beside him and went back to sleep. Rolling her eyes at them, Baby rescued the big mac's remains from the carpet, giving them the burial they deserved (in the bottom of the nearest trash can, she hated McDonald's, it was just one more way people could get disgusting crap all over her seats). The ammunition and remote were placed on the nightstand, along with the firearm. Screw the idea of sleeping with a gun under your pillow for safety; they were _all _safer if Dean Winchester refrained from sleep-shooting for the time being.

Baby gently extracted the laptop from the death-grip Sam had on it. The boy was hugging it like a security blanket, a difficult feat considering his nose was wedged in the binding of an enormous mythology textbook. The removal of the laptop drew a quiet whine of protest from the snoozing man. A small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered all the times the boys had crashed in the backseat when their father once again drove across the country in search of leads on yellow-eyes. They had been so sweet.

And now they were hunters too. It was almost disappointing, really. But she was proud of them, all the same. If she had to be reincarnated as a car, at least it was this car. And no matter what Sam said, she was the badassest thing on four wheels and he knew it. Or he'd better know it. She cast a short baleful look at the unconscious man. Silly boy, thinking he could get away with buying a _new _car just because he had had no soul. It had been so sweet of Castiel to help her let Sam's new car get 'accidentally' destroyed.

But now Sam's soul was back and they were all back together. Almost like a family. Not really thinking about it, Baby realized that she had been smoothing Sam's hair as he slept. Ugh, since when was she their mom? Feeling extremely weirded out and unsure where to go from here, Baby decided the best option was to get the boy in bed before he could wake up and wonder why a strange woman was standing there, stroking him like a cat.

Grimacing (he smelled like zombie guts, obviously these two needed a lesson in hygiene) Baby grabbed him by the arms and pulled him to his feet. Slinging one of his arms over her shoulder; she half-dragged, half-carried him out of his chair. She paused and gazed at the two beds, a mischievous thought tugging at her imagination. Opting not to listen to her conscience, Baby hauled the younger Winchester over to his brother's bed and dumped him next to Dean. Smirking she rearranged the boys so Sam's head was cushioned on Dean's shoulder and Dean's arm was splayed across Sam's chest.

Let them figure _that _out in the morning. Happy to have enacted her revenge for being used as a zombie lawn-mower, Baby shut down Sam's laptop (research on the pagan god Morpheus, interesting and ironic), grabbed his shampoo and conditioner (ooh, appletini scent, that was new) and went to go scrub the stench of zombie from her skin.

Baby was sitting back in the parking lot in time for Dean and Sam to wake up, triggering her transformation back into a car. _Three, two, one, _she counted off in her, head…

"WHAT THE FRIGGING HELL?!"

"DUDE GET OFF ME!"

"YOU WERE THE ONE SNUGGLING WITH ME!"

"No, no, no, there was no snuggling, I do NOT SNUGGLE!"

"Cuddling? What other words are there for that?"

"Awkward as frigging hell?"

"YES! AWKWARD!"

"If this is some weird-ass angel prank I am freaking _killing _Cas!"

Neither Winchester noticed the rapid change in radio stations in the Impala as she laughed her ass off at the two idiots she looked after. It was good to have a family. Albeit, a dysfunctional one that now seemed intent on murdering each other if there was any more physical contact, but a family.

And Baby won every prank war. She just did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2: And Ladies Shouldn't Be Messed With**

**Author's Note: I didn't originally intend to write more of this fic, but the ideas kept coming and so, here it is. There will probably be another short chapter after this one, and who knows, if people are interested enough I might continue to write fics about Baby and company. **

**P.S: Bonus points for anyone who can guess what song I'm referencing with the chapter titles. Hint, the fic's title is also reference. (This song was stuck in my head when I wrote this, hence the chapter titles.) **

"Caffiene?"

"Check."

"Adrenaline shots?"

"Probably illegal, but check."

"Tazer?"

"No, Dean, you are not allowed to pack a tazer."

"Aw Sam, come on, it'll be fun!"

"No! No more tazering Dean!"

"Crybaby."

Sam sighed and ran his hands through his appletini-scented hair (he needed to change his shampoo/conditioner scent, Dean had started to pick up on the fruity aroma). "Dean, we are hunting a pagan god, I don't think tazers are a good idea."

Dean groaned comically, "Come on, dude, the last time I hit you was when I was what, eleven? My aim's much better now."

"No, no tazers."

"Whiny bitch," Dean insulted his sibling without much venom in the words.

"Masochistic jerk," Sam shot back, slinging a heavy backpack full of gear over his shoulder and tugging on his shoes.

Dean snorted, a smile tugging at his mouth, "Ready to go kick some Greek god ass?"

"Without tazers," Sam reminded him.

"Fine, no tazers. But no bitching about how packing adrenaline shots is illegal," Dean demanded, pointing a commanding finger in Sam's face as he breezed through the motel room's door, his brother trailing after him.

Sam rolled his eyes heavenward. He considered praying for guidance, but thought better of it. These days prayer's best case result was an irritable angel in a trenchcoat, worst case involved a bit more smiting and a lot less 'let the nice human live' than Sam was comfortable with. Instead he not-so-gently reminded Dean, "A tazer is not valid method for waking someone up."

Dean tossed his bag of gear in the trunk, Sam following suit. As he slid into the driver's seat, Sam strapped into the passenger seat. Dean glowered over the Impala's dashboard at his brother as they pulled out of the parking lot, onto the highway, "Anything goes when we're fighting the god of sleep, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes once again, and reconsidered the prayer option. Maybe if he was lucky, Cas would show up and smite the sleep god for them and they could all go home and take naps… wait, why was he sleepy? Yeah he had dozed off researching last night and hadn't gotten much rest, but this was ridiculous… His thoughts went fuzzy as his eyes slid shut. Distantly, as if it weren't really all that important compared to his now urgent need to snooze, he hoped that Dean wasn't affected and that they weren't about to crash. Sam barely had enough presence of mind as he drifted off to mumble a foggy, "Hey, Dean, I think Morpheus is…" before passing out completely.

…..

It was hard to describe exactly what it felt like being a car. Baby liked it, although her new form had taken some getting used to, after almost fifty years as a car, she enjoyed the feeling of roaring down the highway, off to a new hunt. However, being in car form was the closest thing Baby had to sleep. Her awareness of the world around her drifted in and out, occasionally she would catch snatches of Sam and Dean's conversations, and sometimes she would listen attentively until the brothers fell silent once more. However, most of the time she would simply drift into a state of semi-consciousness as she let the sweet sound of Dean's classic rock tapes blaring through her speakers lull her into the closest thing she had to rest.

She was not resting now. With a stinging crackle of static through her speakers, Baby felt the presence of the supernatural. A god, she would guess, from the heavy, self-important weight of his presence as he pushed his power through her air vents, despite her efforts to keep them sealed. Somehow, without the benefit of a sense of smell in this form, Baby could _feel_ the heady scent of poppies filtering through the vehicle.

Thunk. Dean had face-planted into the steering wheel. Sam was snoring beside him. Already Baby could feel her tires twisting and jerking every which way as a groggy Dean twisted the steering wheel in his sleeping hands. This was NOT GOOD. With a wrenching jerk of her soul, Baby exerted all the energy she had in _stopping the damn car. _Or stopping her damn self… the implications of what it meant to be a soul in the body of a car still turned her brain (not that she had one anymore…) into a pretzel.

Finally they skidded to a stop, just inches away from hitting a man in a long dark coat who had just appeared in the middle of the highway. The sun, which had been shining brightly outside, seemed to dim as the man's presence extended outward. Shadows spread out from him, dripping from the hem of his dark leather duster to slink across the pavement, oozing outward like a malignant stain.

He wore a black fedora, silver-rimmed black-lensed sunglasses perched on his nose. The only spot of color to be found anywhere on his body was an enormous blood-red poppy stuck in the lapel of his coat. His held a single pale hand extended toward the Impala, it hung lazily in the air in the universal sign for 'stop'. Once Baby had managed to come to a halt, no thanks to him or his stupid hand signal, he snapped his long, bony fingers. Much to her dismay and irritation, Baby felt her doors fly open and her seatbelts click and retract as Sam and Dean were expelled from their seats and unceremoniously dumped on the pavement, still sound asleep.

Apparently satisfied with his work, the man dropped his hand and said, in a voice just as lazy as the gesture, "You may assume your true form my dear. After all, there's no place like home."

An irritated rumble from her motor turned into an exasperated huff as Baby returned herself to human form. She folded her arms, trying ignore the fact that she and the jerk across from her seemed to have eerily similar fashion sense. Black and silver looked stylish and badass on her, on him it was just plain irritating. "What do you want, godling?" she demanded, not appreciating his rough treatment of her boys.

He shrugged loosely, "The same things everyone wants, power, money, women, sweet dreams," a wicked smile danced across his face at the last comment. "Why? What do you want, little one?"

"I want to know who the hell you are and what the hell you're doing to my boys." Baby's tone was flat and uncompromising.

The man shrugged once again, the movement seemed to be a personal tic. Combined with the coat, it made him look a bit raven-like. "I am Morpheus, god of dreams. I and my brothers have been, how do you say it these days? Ah, _crashing _in this little town. After that I suppose we'll make our way to Washington DC, wreak some havoc. And I played rough with the humans because they were going to play rough with me. I felt threatened." The smirk twisting itself onto his face as he spoke the words belied any genuine feelings he had felt regarding the Winchester's hunt for him.

Baby snorted at him, trying to ignore the soothing scent of poppy pouring from the flower on his lapel. "As if you care what a handful of hunters were going to do to you. You're a god."

He sighed wearily, half for effect and half out of true tiredness. "A _pagan _god, chickie. It's been a good while before I've been worshipped, or even really noticed. What do you expect of me when I finally get some time to run around Earth with my brothers? You want me to join a monastery or something? Hells no! I'll just sow some chaos here, some chaos there; screw with the humans' heads a bit." He paused, head cocked to the side as he listened to some sort of frequency Baby couldn't plug into. A delighted smile spread across Morpheus' face. It was as if he were five years old and someone told him that it was going to be Christmas day every single day for a year. "The boys seem to be waking up, quick, act busy!"

Baby slid her gaze over to where Dean had been curled up on the ground. He was beginning to twitch and mutter as if he were well and truly waking up. A quick glance at Sam revealed the same thing. Turning back to her opponent, Baby narrowed her eyes at him menacingly, "I'll be back for you," she promised, voice dripping with hostility even as she made the change back into car form.

….

Dean sat up with a jerk, shouting, "What the friggin' _hell_?"

Sam groaned and sat up, rubbing the back of his head, "Dean, did you crash the car again?"

"No, chickies, although it wasn't for lack of trying," Morpheus said with a self-satisfied smirk, "Really Dean? Falling asleep at the wheel? Then again, you can't be _that _bright, you thought a little thing like caffeine and adrenaline would keep me at bay. Really, quite sloppy boys."

"Morpheus, you sick bastard," Sam gritted out through clenched teeth as he and his brother staggered to their feet.

"_Moi_?" Morpheus' narrow face transformed into the very picture of wounded pride, "What have I done?"

"The dreams," Sam growled. Dean flicked him a look of mingled irritation and concern. The moron hadn't mentioned _dreams. _If Sam was keeping stuff from him _again_ he may just have to kill the little twerp. After he killed whatever was messing with his head, of course. What else were big brothers for?

Morpheus chuckled, "A mortal not appreciating my gifts, how _typical_. Not enjoying the dreams, are you? You do realize that I am the _god _of prophetic dreams. I used to service _kings _and _emperors,_ now I'm stuck with _you._ Not much of a consolation prize, chickie."

Dean _had _to voice the smart-ass comment that had floated to the top of his mind. It was too good to resist, "Y'know that kind of makes you sound like a prostitute."

"A _what_?" Morpheus looked pissed. Damn. Oh well, at least it would be interesting.

Dean decided to keep digging the hole he had dug for himself. "A prostitute. A call girl. _Servicing _people." Dean started to snicker. Sam punched him in the shoulder; face already screwed up into the expression Dean liked to call 'bitch-face number twelve'. The face that clearly said 'shut the hell up before the scary-ass creature you're mocking decides to rip out our internal organs and eat them'. Dean liked to ignore that face. It made life so much more interesting.

Morpheus did not take well to taunting. He extended his pale hands palms parallel to the ground, "Phobetor, Icelus, Phantasus, come." He looked up at the Winchestors, head tipped to the side, a twisted smile on his face, "My brothers are coming. Try to play nicely with them."

"Brothers?" Dean glanced at Sam, a gun already in his hand.

"The Oneiroi, the spirits of dreams. Nightmares, prophecy, and hallucinations," Sam clarified.

"Great," Dean groaned.

"Oh this won't do. You must be asleep to meet my brothers. Did I forget to mention that?" Morpheus giggled, and with a flick of his wrists, Dean and Sam were once again snoozing on the pavement.

…

Baby was jerked back to human form so fast it was dizzying. She stood still in the parking lot, getting her bearings for a moment as she tried to figure out what had happened. She glanced to the side and saw the bodies of the Winchesters once again passed out on the road. But then, why could she also see them up and fighting? She squinted, trying to figure out how she could see two Sams and two Deans, one set unconscious, the other grappling with shadowy figures. Morpheus' voice whispered in her ear, cold and unpleasant.

"Welcome to the dream-world, chickie. Those things your 'boys' are fighting are my brothers."

Snarling in rage, Baby spun around fist up and crashing into the god's nose before either of them had time to blink. She followed it up with a punch to the gut and a knee to the groin. And still Morpheus stood there, laughing. Smug bastard.

Gritting her teeth, glancing at the sight of Sam and Dean locked in combat with three shadowy figures, Baby charged Morpheus. She smashed a shoulder into his stomach, but opened herself up to him grabbing the back of her jacket and tossing her to the ground. She landed hard on her back, breath rushing out of her lungs. He moved to plant a foot on her stomach but she grabbed his heel before he could make contact. Bracing herself against the ground she threw him off-balance. Squawking in outrage Morpheus tumbled onto his back, smacking his head against the ground.

Pushing herself to her feet, Baby straddled Morpheus, grabbing him by the throat and digging her nails into his soft flesh. He scrabbled at her wrists futilely before reaching up and grabbing her ear, yanking her head down until they were nose-to-nose. His breath stank of dying poppies. Baby choked and gasped in pain as Morpheus used his grip on her ear to yank her off of him. She hit the ground once more, this time on her side. Morpheus struggled away from her, kicking her in the gut as he scrambled to his feet. Baby curled inward, tucking her knees against her chest as she rolled into his ankles, throwing the already-off-balance god off of his feet completely. Once he was again on her level, Baby pounced on him. She landed squarely on his chest, one of her knees pressing down into his windpipe.

Once again holding the upper hand of the fight, she scanned the area, checking on Sam and Dean. It didn't look good. Dean was corned by two of the 'brothers' while Sam hacked wildly with a machete at the third. Gritting her teeth, knowing they couldn't win this as they were, Baby began to chant.

"_Adeste fidelis, laeti triumphantes," _she began.

"Latin?" Morpheus choked, "I am a _Greek_ _god _do you really think Latin would banish me?"

"No, but it does summon the faithful." A gravelly voice intoned from somewhere behind Baby.

"Welcome to the party Castiel," Baby grimaced.

Castiel's perplexed look as he attempted to interpret the human expression was so strong Baby could almost hear it. Finally, the angel seemed to decide to ignore the Impala's questionable sense of humor in favor of taking care of business. "We do not have much time." He intoned, before laying a hand on first Baby's forehead, then Morpheus'.

The next thing Baby knew they were in Greece and she was a car. Castiel sat in the driver's seat, they were parked outside of a small, derelict temple. Morpheus was hog-tied inside of it. _"Can you even drive?" _Baby's soul thought at Cas.

"Close enough." Cas told her.

If Baby were in human form she would have rolled her eyes at the angel. As it was she flickered her headlights and started her engine (as Cas hadn't been astute enough to remember to take Dean's keys). _"I assume you want me to destroy the temple and seal him inside?" _Baby asked, exasperated.

"That was the idea. Cutting off his access to the mortal world should send his brothers back to Hades as well."

_"You are the one who gets to explain to Dean how I got wrecked." _

"I will even help with repairs," Cas promised.

_"No. Hands off, angel boy." _

"Fine, just drive."

With another irritated headlight-flicker, Baby began to roll forward. This was going to hurt.

**Author's Note: Of course Baby is fine. The Impala never stays wrecked long, and I plan on writing a short epilogue in which the boys and Cas are fixing up the car and Cas keeps getting heckled by Baby's spirit because he's the only one who can see her.**

**The Latin phrase that Baby uses to summon Castiel is actually a Latin translation of the Christmas song "Come All Ye Faithful", hence Cas's pun after she summons him. **

**Morpheus is one of the lesser known Greek gods, and has no listed weaknesses according to lore (he's realllyyy lesser known, which somehow manages to translate into invincible in Greek myths…) But, he's often depicted lying in a sealed cave, surrounded by oodles of poppy flowers, so I figured that if they trapped him in his own temple he'd be lulled into his own sort of sleep. (just roll with my logic, it's fun and interesting…)**

**Thanks for reading! Please REVIEW! **


	3. Chapter 3

** Part 3: Baby, let's try not to argue**

"That is most inconvenient. Please stop." Despite the lukewarm connotations of the words, Castiel's face had a look on it that Baby had tentatively named 'Special Edition Bitch-Face #19'. It roughly translated to: 'If you don't stop doing (insert irritating and/or blasphemous thing here) _right now_, I will smite your ass.' Baby thought it was hilarious. Hence why she had spent the better part of an hour throwing bolts, screws and other small metal objects at Cas' head.

"What are you staring at, man?" Sam's voice forced the angel to stop Vulcan-death-glaring at Baby for a few seconds.

Cas turned toward the younger Winchester, the angel's back now to the metal-part-flinging Baby. "There is a malignant presence here," he informed Sam, voice as deadly serious as usual.

Baby threw a handful of washers at him, whooping when they all pinging off the back of his neck and dropped down behind the collars of his trench coat and dress shirt. She could practically sense the angel closing his eyes and doing that little head-tilt-and-sigh thing he did whenever he thought someone (typically Dean) was being horribly immature and vexing.

"There had better not be a ghost haunting my garage," Dean's voice sounded from underneath the car he was tinkering with.

"At least a ghost'd be easier to deal with than the god of sleep," Sam said, his eyes had already begun to drift back to the book in his hands. Apparently washer-flinging, angel-irritating 'malignant presences' were not interesting enough to hold his attention. "You never did explain how you got rid of him." Sam's tone was off-hand, but his gaze was sharp as he eyed Cas over the edge of his book.

"Yeah Cas, what the hell, no more secrets. I'm pretty damn sure they've never worked out in the past. For any of us." Dean's input left them all contemplating past mistakes.

Cas sighed. Baby caught a glimpse of blue as he peered at her out of the corner of his eye. "It is not for me to say," he finally admitted, gaze sliding away from where Baby sat on the counter, in human form, but only visible to the angel.

"Cas." How Dean managed to turn on syllable into an angry snarl conveying several years' worth of angst and irritation never ceased to amaze Baby.

The angel's shoulders slumped a bit. Baby knew he hated keeping secrets from his friends.

"Cas," Sam's voice was a bit more reasonable. He had even set his book aside to say this, underscoring its importance. Sammy Winchester was the undisputed King of Nerds. He set aside his studying for no man. Or, rather, angel. "We need to know what you did in case we need to do it again. Morpheus wasn't alone and he sure as hell wasn't afraid to sic his siblings on people."

"Sick bastard," Dean concurred from under the car.

"So, yeah, I'd say it's pretty damn important that we know what you did so we can do it again."

"You cannot recreate it," Castiel's voice was uncompromising.

"Cas! Just spit it out!" Dean's voice was at its finest drill-sergeant bark, only slightly warped and muffled by the pounds of steel between his face and open air.

Castiel sighed, an oddly human gesture, "I informed you, I transported him to Greece and, using the Impala, buried him in his own temple, forcing himself into sleep again."

Sam snorted, "Yeah, thanks for that."

Castiel shrugged awkwardly. "I offered to assist in the repairs."

"No way in hell, man. You are _not _getting anywhere _near _my baby," Dean informed him, absently patting the car as he continued to tinker.

"That is what she said," Castiel sighed, referencing his previous conversation with Baby. A conversation Sam and Dean were not around to hear. There was dead silence in the garage.

"Dude, did you just make a 'that's what she said' joke?" Sam's voice was disbelieving.

Castiel cocked his head to the side, "No?" He sounded uncertain.

"He made a joke. A real joke. And it was somewhere near the zipcode of funny." Dean's voice was just as disbelieving as Sam's. "I think this man deserves a beer."

Castiel's brows furrowed, "I thought the possession of beer was considered to be one of the basic human rights."

"Only by Dean," Sam and Baby clarified at the same time. Castiel shot a look at both of them.

"Okay, man, you've got to tell us why you keep staring at the back wall," Sam said, voice more serious.

"And you still haven't explained what went down in toga-land!" Dean pointed out gruffly. He had slid out from under the car and was now toying with the engine.

"It is as I informed you, I-"

"Yeah, no, I don't know if you've realized, but I already own my fair share of _crap_, I'm not buying any of yours," Dean snapped, not unkindly.

Sam sighed, once again forced to be the more diplomatic Winchester. "Cas, you obviously did not work alone when you sealed Morpheus. We just need to know what you used, who it is if it's a person and where we all stand on this, got it?"

Cas sighed, shoulders slumping even further. He once again shot a glance at Baby. She shrugged and gave him a big 'what the hell, why not?' thumbs up. This induced yet another sigh from the angel. "I believe you have already met her," he stalled.

"Her?" Sam looked perplexed.

"Her?" Dean just looked hostile. Then again, he always looked hostile at the mention of new people.

"She is, ah-" Cas, poor bastard, seemed to be at a loss for what exactly to say at this point.

Baby groaned. Angel-Boy was going to take all night to explain this if things kept going this way. Mind made up, she slid off the counter and padded over to the car, hopping onto the trunk and from there onto the roof, where she crossed her legs, folded her arms and _willed _herself to appear. "_She,_ is right here, dumbass."

In the space of a single second both Winchesters were pointing firearms in her direction. Dean was spitting out a string of profanity while Sam was coughing up a string of questions and Cas was just staring at her intently as if questioning her life choices.

Baby stared at the boys impassively. "Hi, there, gents. I'm your car." She patted the hunk of metal underneath her. "And I'm sometimes a girl. But only when you're asleep." She winked at them, resisting the urge to laugh as Dean swore some more and Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. She stretched lazily, arms stretched above her head, making her shirt ride up, flashing her license-plate tattoo. "If that's not creepy enough, normally only Feathers over there can see me. _But, _we wrecked my vessel pretty bad last time and now I'm floating around kind body-less until you finish fixing me up nice and pretty." She flashed them a teasing smile and rapped her knuckles against her own roof. "The only reason you two can see me right now is cuz I really want you to and I'm feeding off Sparky's angel-mojo."

Castiel looked offended. Sam looked perplexed. Dean looked flat-out stunned. So many emotions on so many faces. This was kind of fun. She swung her legs, heels tapping gently against the car windows. She ignored Dean's winces at the potential for window-breaking found in that action alone. This car was hers. Or _her, _depending on how you thought about it.

"I helped Cas seal up Morpheus, if that's what you're wondering," she interjected into the heavy silence.

Dean and Sam blinked a bit. Cas stared.

"My car is a chick. A hot chick. My car is a hot chick." That seemed to be all Dean was willing to spit out at the present moment.

"Whoa there, tiger, I don't think about ya 'that way'," Baby teased.

"So, um, you're our car. And you're also a woman. In a car's body. But also in a woman's body…" Sam was apparently attempting to scrape his thought processes into some sort of order.

"I'm a soul that was incarnated as a car. My name is Baby. Any questions?"

"How did… this happen? Don't souls generally reincarnate… differently?" Sam was obviously trying not to offend. Dean, on the other hand, obviously had no issues with offending.

"You get reborn into something living. Human, dung beetle, ostrich, but not a _car._" Dean had fought past his shock enough to comment.

"She is not an ordinary soul," Castiel said grimly.

"Not an ordinary soul…?" Sam was looking at her curiously. Baby hated that.

"Nope. I'm the soul of a dead angel. How does that make you feel?" She grinned at them. They stared back. It was not a particularly comfortable moment for anyone.

**Author's Note: I lied. This will probably run four parts instead of three. I just found there was too much to say here for it to all go into one chapter, so, here we are. Part 4 will better explain Baby's soul's origins and my wacky angel-afterlife head-cannon. **

**PLEASE REVIEW! Your words brighten my day and encourage me to write more than ever. **


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